


The Massage Can Wait

by quiet__tiger



Series: Worth It [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Barebacking, Established Relationship, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 14:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10698678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: After the game, Bruce wants to relax. Clark helps.





	The Massage Can Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal Aug. 2nd, 2006.

The plan to shower, get massaged, and then have sex lasted about seven minutes, the time it took to get to the shower, strip, and get the water temperature set. Bruce had been about to drop his head so the hot water pounded onto the back of his aching neck, and then work on washing off all the mud and grass stains, but before he could, Clark turned him and pressed his back to the wall of the shower.

The stretched muscles in his shoulders protested at the force, but Clark’s hot mouth on his own made Bruce forget his damn shoulders. And aching back. Clark clutched Bruce’s wet hair with one hand, turning his head to get a better angle to deepen the kiss. There was the _good_ kind of fire when Clark pressed his groin to Bruce’s, unlike the heat radiating through Bruce’s hurt knee.

“Bruce.” Clark thrust against Bruce hard, like he didn’t care if he just came all over him so long as he just _came_.

“Unh?” If he really wanted Bruce to respond, Clark wouldn’t have gotten his tongue in the way.

“Now, gotta. Tired of waiting. Your hands on me all day…” The last word was more of a whimper because Bruce had a hand on Clark’s ass, squeezing the Kryptonian to either get him to speed up or slow down, Bruce wasn’t sure which.

“Go ahead…”

Clark barely waited for the final sound of Bruce’s words before he grabbed the bath oil from the shelf built into the shower wall. Bruce heard Clark unscrew the cap, felt one of Clark’s big fingers press into him, heard himself moan when Clark pushed harder. Clark eased his legs farther apart, and Bruce tried not to slip along the bottom of the shower.

It must be nice not having to worry about things like that because you were either invulnerable or could fly.

Clark started to worry marks into Bruce’s neck with his teeth, and for once Bruce let him. They were below the collar line, and Bruce didn’t have any plans in the near future to see anyone outside of the office or patrol. Besides, it _felt_ good. But Clark’s fingers inside him felt even better…

Bruce got a hand between them to stroke Clark’s cock, and Clark hissed at him. “Don’t. Too close.” And then Clark _bit_ him. Bruce would have to teach Clark a lesson about manners. Later. With toys.

But then Clark thrust his tongue in Bruce’s mouth again, and Bruce didn’t care what Clark did so long as he. didn’t. stop. Bruce tried to rub his own cock against Clark’s, work himself on Clark’s fingers, _something_ , but then Clark pulled his fingers _out_. Bruce probably would have snarled, but then Clark used his impossibly strong hands to lift Bruce’s legs up from the backs of his thighs, effectively pinning him to the wall of the shower. Bruce reflexively folded his legs around Clark’s waist.

The awkward position stopped being awkward when Clark thrust _inside_ , Bruce glad the bottle of bath oil had been as full as it was, Clark’s cock burning within him.

The good kind of burn.

Clark let Bruce’s wet thighs slide through his hands until both men were comfortable, Clark not at risk of slipping or dropping Bruce, Bruce not in some back-wrenching position against the wall. Clark thrust hard and Bruce grunted, the action not expected. Clark slowed after that, rocking into Bruce more carefully. Bruce used the hand not clamped to the back of Clark’s head to press against Clark’s chest, wanting to feel the muscle move, feel Clark’s alien heart beating. The fact that Clark was an alien, no matter how human he looked or acted, was the only reason Bruce didn’t insist on protection with him. At least, not since he’d tested Clark’s various fluids to just make _sure_ they weren’t toxic to him.

He was the Batman, anything less than certainty was out of character.

He rocked into Clark’s thrusts, his hand teasing Clark’s nipples, his teeth nibbling on Clark’s bottom lip, careful not to bite too hard. Clark hadn’t been wrong before; he was very close to coming, his now-erratic thrusts and panting proving that. But being the Boy Scout that he was, if boy scouts fornicated in the shower, anyway, he apparently wanted Bruce coming first. His fist was damp and hot on Bruce’s straining cock, his hand little more than a blur as he used his speed. Bruce was so wrapped up in Clark, or having Clark in him and on him, he barely heard the shower anymore.

Bruce curled into Clark, pulling his mouth off of his to breathe into the strong shoulder his head wound up on, his hips moving involuntarily between his points of contact with his lover. Clark’s hands knew what they were doing, knew Bruce’s body almost as well as he did, and with one more thrust of Clark’s hips, Bruce came between them, hand clenched to the back of Clark’s head, his breath raspy with exertion. Clark tried to speak, maybe, that moan sounded like it might have been “Oh, God,” and after a handful more thrusts came as well, hand tightening hard around Bruce’s thigh.

After two or three minutes, Clark finally released his grip, and Bruce let his legs fall from Clark’s waist. Bruce’s already-sore muscles protested as he gained his footing on the slippery floor, his strong legs shaky. Clark pulled out and pressed close to Bruce, his head resting against Bruce’s. Bruce had never been a cuddler, technically he still wasn’t, but he let Clark rest there, crushing him against the wall that had barely had time to get wet before Clark jumped him.

Clark nuzzled against him, something that was pleasurable when they were both dry and Clark’s hair was soft against his own, but now it just reminded Bruce that they were both soggy and yet hadn’t actually gotten a chance to shower. “Clark.”

“Mmmmmmmm.”

“Though the wall is just as comfortable as a mattress, I’d like to finish cleaning up and go lie down.”

Clark pulled back, his expression slightly wounded. “Oh.”

Bruce arched an eyebrow at his dense lover. “With you.”

“Oh!”

Bruce rolled his eyes, and Clark tugged on his hair. Well, that was better than biting him, Bruce supposed. “You still owe me a massage.”

“Right.” Clark smiled at him. “Always happy to do that.”

“Well, you’re one of the reasons I’m so sore in the first place.”

Clark reached around and gripped Bruce’s ass. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Lemme help…” Bruce sighed as Clark set about washing off the semen, mud, grass stains, and various other bits of grime from the picnic. Though he wanted to swear revenge for Clark’s unexpected bits of dominance, he knew he couldn’t. They were just as much a part of Clark as the need to make Bruce feel better.

Clark nuzzled against his cock as he scrubbed Bruce's legs, and Bruce had to sigh even as he felt his body try to react.

The massage could wait. Not that he really minded.


End file.
